Memories
by HeartOfParadise
Summary: There's something about you that brought out the very best in me, the hidden sides that I never realised I had. You brought out the silliness, the laughter and the carefree nature in this once-rigid young man. And what do I have to give you in return? Nothing but a collection of memories, little man.
1. Dragons

**Modern AU, a collection of memories between Courfeyrac and Gavroche (ages are altered a little, just for the sake of fluffiness)**

_There's something about you that brought out the very best in me, the hidden sides that I never realised I had. You brought out the silliness, the laughter and the carefree nature in this once-rigid young man. And what do I have to give you in return? Nothing but a collection of memories, little man. _

* * *

Do you remember that time when we fought dragons in the bathroom? You were only four, so you may not remember it all, but I do. See, I can't exactly forget that moment all those years ago, even though I routinely forget to take out the trash or mow the lawn. And if you ever want a reminder of that time, just look for the watermark on the walls on the second floor. It still hasn't faded, after all this time.

I remember I was cooking dinner at the time, a rushed affair of macaroni and cheese. You were upstairs, silent. A little too silent to be up to nothing, as I should've realised. It was only a couple of months after you came as my foster child, and yet you've rebounded from the horrors of your previous life so well. Granted, you were only four and didn't remember a great deal, which was a blessing.

I knew something was up when water dripped down from the ceiling, especially as there wasn't a drop of rain outside. Guess what I found upstairs in the bathroom, after trudging through a field of sodden carpet lining the second floor? You, in your cheeky glory, grinning at me as you sat on the floor of the bathroom, water lapping around your waist.

"I made you a swimming pool, 'cause the real one's closed," you told me as I looked in horror at the taps in the sink and the bathtub, all turned on maximum. You left the shower door open and even managed to turn on the showerhead, despite the handle being taller than you.

Guiltily I thought back to that morning, when you asked me to take you to the local pool because I promised I would a week ago. I forgot about that promise, what with my mind being on my newest case and the scheduled meeting with my client. And so I told you that the pool was closed because it was winter (which, if I was to be completely honest, was a little white lie), and turned away before your downcast face could make me change my mind.

"Oh, what did you do, Gav?" I asked you, evidently not masking my annoyance well enough. Was I angry? Yes I was, because I had enough on my plate without having the entire second floor of my house flooded by a four-year-old.

"Don't you like it, Courf?" you cocked your head, your big blue eyes starting to swim in unshed tears, "You think I'm naughty, don't you?"

"No, I..."

"We can even fight dragons, just like the good guy in the story last night."

And just like that, you had me mesmerised by your innocence again, by the shining light of your eyes and your limitless imagination.

"Look out, Courf! He's coming to get ya!" you yelled as you swerved your toy dragon in my direction, the laughter behind your words pushing my adult annoyance away.

And just like that, I sat down on the floor with you, not even minding the fact that my new suit pants were soaked.


	2. Under Where?

I was perpetually late to everything. This was true even before you came into my life, but "late" became an understatement after I've met you. You have this canny ability to distract me, be it making me pull over to the kerb because you wanted to sit still and watch the rainbow, or be it making me forget where I was heading in the first place.

Around the time when you were four, I was swamped in endless meetings with clients and partners. I had just gotten a good position in the firm, something I didn't expect to get this early on in my career. It was the good income that allowed me to take you in the first place, so I wasn't about to give up on that. Plus, I've always been too ambitious for my own good, and I think that ambition rubbed off on you.

You've asked me many times why I chose you, and why I wanted a kid to look after when I was drifting in and out of relationships. And I think I've always told you that I did it because of my mother, the woman who gave her all to everything and shared her riches with everyone. I told you I did it because I was her son, and that was something her son would do. But now that I think about it, that wasn't strictly true.

Even though I didn't know it then, I chose you because of your bright eyes and your smile and the life that radiated from you. I chose you because you were entirely yourself. Even if that cheeky little self managed to make me dreadfully late to everything I've ever scheduled since.

I remember a particular Thursday, when I was running late yet again to a case meeting with my associates. Nothing was going my way that day, not the untameable hair or the crooked tie that cannot be fixed. Even breakfast defied me, when a grand total of three cornflakes dropped out of the box and there was less than half a cup of milk in the fridge. You, as always, were unfazed by all of this.

I had to sensor my language when I found out the car keys weren't in my briefcase or in my jacket pockets. You were trailing right behind me, wanting to play a game, and I didn't want you to have a colourful vocabulary at the age of nearly-five.

"Whatcha looking for, Courf? Can't you just call it?"

You made me laugh a little at that. I didn't realise until then that you've picked up a lot more from me than you showed. It was true that I lost my phone about twice a week, and every single time I would call it from our home phone and you would go on a hunt for the blasting ringtone. But sadly, as I had to explain to you, car keys don't have phone numbers.

I swept through the rest of our house in those five minutes before I absolutely had to leave, and you told me I was like a "huwwicane". The search of the second floor was fruitless, and I was just about to give up and call for a cab when you pulled me back into the kitchen.

"It's under there," you whispered to me as you pointed in the general direction of the cupboards, as though we are spies conspiring.

"Under where?" I asked back as I tried to follow your line of sight.

"I made you say underwear!" you laughed, your tiny frame shaking with pure glee from this latest prank of yours.

And when you held my hand and teased me for saying the u-word, I couldn't resist any longer. I completely forgot what it was that I was looking for as I laughed along with you.

Until my phone rang like crazy as my colleagues tried to find out where the hell I was, that is. But that is another completely different story, little man.

**_Thank you so much for reading, reviewing and putting this on your favourites/alerts :)_**


	3. Summer

Your love affair with words began early, little man. You were fascinated with books, even my old leather-bound volumes of literary classics. You used to climb on a chair to get them down, content just to sit on the floor and stroke their pages. You couldn't read then, even though you desperately wanted to learn. You were freshly five, Gav, and I thought I could leave the task of teaching you the alphabet to when you'd start school. But you were forever impatient, still _are_, and insisted that you couldn't wait til autumn.

And so I taught you your letters. For the weeks afterward you would spend your days reading any- and everything with letters on them, from the cereal box to the signs on the way to your kindergarten. You learnt so quickly, little man, that it astonished me sometimes. Oh, you still had trouble with long words and with pronunciation (your lisp stayed for a while, but I didn't have the heart to correct you because it was too damn adorable), but your love for language shone through. Your eyes lit up like it was Christmas every time you managed to read a word, and you would clap your hands together in an unconscious display of delight. The sight of you made me so happy.

I took a week off work that summer to take you on a surprise trip. You have been with me for about eight months then, I think, and I was in the process of applying to adopt you. The fostering roster was meant to be changed every half year, but I had fallen too much for your laughter to let you go. Adoption was difficult, because I wasn't married or in a stable relationship despite having the financial stability to keep you. I can still remember those nights spent poring over legislations and policies, functioning purely on caffeine and the need to protect you and keep you by me.

You cried in the car that summer as I reversed out of the driveway. Your muffled sobs and the sight of your wet cheeks made my heart broke. I pulled over three streets away and slid beside you in the backseat, wondering what I did wrong this time. You wouldn't speak to me. You wouldn't even look me in the eye. Your little shoulders were hunched forward as you clutched your favourite toy, Giggle the monkey that I bought you for your fifth birthday.

"Tell me what's wrong, buddy," I pleaded with you as I unbuckled your seatbelt and pulled you onto my lap, "Do you feel sick? Is something hurting?"

You shook you head twice, slowly. Even with Giggle sandwiched between us, I could feel the force of your shaking body. You weren't running a fever, I checked that already, and you looked exactly as you did normally, with the exception of the tears.

"Please, Gav," I was almost begging you, because seeing you like this hurt me more than I can put into words, "Tell me what's bothering you. You said we're best friends, remember? Best friends don't keep secrets from each other, especially if they're hurt."

Suddenly, with the kind of sadness and desperation that no five-year-old should have, you flung your arms around me. Through your tears you mumbled something into my ear, and it took me three tries before I understood what you said.

"I pwomise I won't be bad again, Courf, I pwomise."

"Hey, nobody said you were, buddy."

"But..." you turned your head to look sideways at me, the first sign of eye contact all day, "... don't send me back, Courf. Pretty pwease."

"Back to where?" I wondered aloud before finally catching on to the meaning of your words.

With your easy laughter these past months, I had forgotten that there were parts of you that were permanently scarred. I had forgotten that you weren't like the other five-year-olds at kindergarten, that you had a history that would haunt you for years to come.

"Did you think we were going back to that place?" I asked you, holding you closer than ever.

"I don't like packing," you told me, just as you did this morning when I piled your clothes into a suitcase.

"We're not packing your things to go back there, little man," I told you, feeling suddenly sad that I had to clarify the simple act of packing to you.

"Then where?"

"Somewhere special," I said, and at the worried look from you I added, "And I'm not leaving you there. See, I've got my own suitcase too."

You pondered over this for a long while. Finally you retracted your arms from around my shoulders and climbed back into your seat.

"So we're good to go?" I asked you as I buckled you back again.

"Uh huh," you nodded, allowing your shoulders to relax a little.

I went around to the driver's seat again. As we pull away from the familiar streets and headed for the highway, you began your usual reading frenzy. At every red light you would try to read as many signs as possible, the words rolling off your tongue clumsily. That was how I knew you were okay again.

"So this is a holiday?" you asked me as we cruised along the seaside road, watching as families unpacked their cars to get ready for another scorching summer.

"Yep, little man, it's a holiday," I told you, and watched as the beauty of your smile rivalled that of the rippling ocean.

_**I love these two so very much, so if you have any prompts/suggestions regarding Gav and/or Courf, please send them my way :) Thanks for reading once again, muchos appreciated!**_


	4. Puddles

There was a freak storm that summer, and it cut our holiday short. You didn't want to leave, even though it was pouring outside and thunder shook the foundation of our rented holiday house. You weren't scared in the slightest, not like Combeferre's twin girls, and you told me that you'll protect me if I agree to let you stay. But the weather worsened too quickly, and Joly was on the verge of having a heart attack just thinking about what could happen. So we left, driving together down the ocean road and parting at the highway intersection, as was the tradition every year. I've spent summer with those guys ever since I started university.

You warmed up to them rather quickly, even though you've only met them a few times before. Combeferre had always been the best with kids, and he became your idol that summer when you were five. I don't know how he did it, but he made time to play with you in between taking care of his own girls, one of which is my goddaughter. You told me that 'ferre was amazing, and that Joly was funny in his nervous way. You liked Prouvaire a whole lot, too, which was not surprising considering you two share an obsession with words. The only two that you didn't gush about in the car trip home were Marius and Enjolras.

Safe and warm inside the car, you traced the path of the raindrops as you made me promise to drive you over to Combeferre's that weekend. I agreed to it, despite feeling more than a little guilty about my growing pile of work, but I haven't had a chance to properly talk to 'ferre or any of the others for such a long time. The handful of days we spent by the seaside were barely enough to catch up on our busy days apart.

"Wave to them, Gav," I told you as we pulled up to our last shared traffic light, "There's 'ferre's car!"

"Oh, and Jehan's! And Joly's pick-up truck!" you said excitedly as you waved, your little face pressed against the window, "See ya on Saturday!"

"I don't think they can hear you over this racket," I laughed as you yelled even louder, "Hey, say bye to Enjolras too, the light's about to turn green."

You waved as I instructed you to, but not with the overbrimming enthusiasm you gave Combeferre. Enjolras nodded back at you from inside his sports car, ever the serious one.

"Does he ever smile, Courf?" you asked me as we turned right, separating from the others.

I wanted to tell you that he did, that it was rare but Enjolras was human like the rest of us. But before I could open my mouth, our car was attacked with a wave of water, undrained rain courtesy of our town's crappy drainage system. A blue sports car pulled ahead of us, skirting through the massive puddles with ease.

"He is going to pay at the next intersection," I chuckled to myself, half of my mind still wondering why Enjolras turned right when his house was on the other side of the town.

We skid into a stop right through the biggest puddle at the next junction. You laughed out loud as the rainwater sprayed up like the foaming crest of a wave, enveloping our car and Enjolras' in a mist.

"You're gonna be in so much trouble, Courf," you told me in your adult voice, laughter bubbling from your whole being, "You got mud on his car! Do it again, pwease!"

"Alright," I laughed, steering the wheel to aim for the next puddle as we pulled away from the crossroad, "But if he asks, it's all you idea, little man."

Enjolras beat us to it, though. Grimy water flew into the air as his tires skid through the rain, blinding the rear windows momentarily with mud. You rolled your window down before I could tell you not to, yelling indignantly to Enjolras.

"Hey, that was our puddle!"

To my surprise, the window of Enjolras' new car lowered. The slanting rain plastered his curls to his forehead.

"I got there first though," he yelled back, winking at you before rolling his window up again.

I took one hand off the steering wheel to find the control for your window, rolling it up for you before our own car was flooded. Enjolras pulled away, turning down the next corner as we continued travelling straight. Through the blurring rain, I recognised the street name. He was going to visit his mother.

"I like him now," you told me as we turned into our neighbourhood, your neck still slightly craned backwards in search of Enjolras' car, "He's funny."

"Of course," I agreed with you, although _funny_ wasn't exactly something that Enjolras was known for prior to meeting you.

"But we win that one!" you said, your fingertips squeaking as you drew something on the fogged up window, "See, he was cheating right there!"

Later, when you already pranced into the house with a trail of water behind you, I took a photo of your window art with my phone. I've lost that phone since then, or perhaps I broke it, but if you ever want to see that picture you can ask Enjolras. He still has that picture of the car race, complete with us three, after all these years.

**_Thank you for reading, and a special thank you to Sophie Capulet for reviewing each chapter :)_**


	5. Rhymes

I found a box full of your old books yesterday. It was packed full of colourful illustrations, from cars to trains to anything you could possibly imagine. Yes, even fairytales, despite your denial of ever having owned "such girly things". At the very top were your Dr Seuss books, the most well-thumbed and well-loved of them all. I told you your love affair with words started early.

Prouvaire bought them for you, actually. After our summer trip, he came by frequently to babysit you. It certainly gave me a little leeway with my work, but his ultimate purpose was to let me venture out into the world of dating again. He was ever the romantic.

I was glad for all his help though, because he was so much better at teaching you to love words than I would've ever been. I could only give you the building blocks of twenty-six letters and the basic rules of how to place them together into a word. Prouvaire, on the other hand, blew life into them. He rhymed and wove words into quirky rhythms, making them sing a song of their own, and you absolutely loved it.

You were obsessed with _Green Eggs and Ham_ for weeks after he first bought it for you, and you would try to speak in rhyme all day long. Later, as Prouvaire collected the Dr Seuss books for you one by one, _Oh, The Places You'll Go! _became your absolute favourite. I think it's still up in your room somewhere, actually.

There are quite a few clips of you speaking in rhyme on my laptop, little man, but I never managed to capture my favourite rhyme of yours. We were at Combeferre's for a welcome-home party, and you met Grantaire for the very first time. He had just finished his one-year contract in Australia, and was eager to be back amongst familiar faces again. You two hit off famously, and as the night wore on and Grantaire's blood alcohol level skyrocketed, you found him even more hilarious.

It must be said that normally Grantaire is of the joking sort, but when he is drunk he becomes a merciless teaser. That fact was true on this particular occasion too. You were still speaking in rhyme, little man, much to Prouvaire's delight, and this was the thing that 'taire chose to tease you about. He tried his absolute hardest to provoke you into saying something that didn't rhyme, but somehow you held your own for a whole half hour (with only a teensy bit of help from Prouvaire!). And then he said something or did something (what he did, I can no longer remember), but it produced the biggest look of indignation on your little face. You crossed your arm and turned away, determined not to talk to him ever again. No way, Jose.

"Aww come on, buddy," Grantaire knelt down to your eye level, moving a little tipsily with the wine glass still in his hand, "Just a little teasing, no harm done. Truce?"

"That's no excuse!" you pouted, racking your brain to think up something that rhymed.

"He's right, 'taire," Combeferre put in, placing an arm around your little shoulders, "Your teasing crosses the line sometimes, and this is one of those time.

"You... you...," you struggled to find the word, then jumping suddenly as you hit jackpot, "You stupid moose!"

There was a long silence as we stared at each other, until Enjolras started a round of laughter that cannot be stopped. I felt the urge to tell you off for calling 'taire "stupid", just because we went through the naughty words mere days ago, but you were too funny and the moment too lovely to be interrupted. Out of nowhere, Grantaire settled his glass of wine on a table and started making terrible moose noises. You tried to stay annoyed at him, but you couldn't resist laughing as he came closer to you.

"You sound like a goat," you told him, grinning again, "A really crazy goat."

"Aw come on, give the poor moose a break!" Grantaire winked at you as he sat down on the arm of the sofa, "But you've gotta give me five. That was a wicked rhyme!"

You reached over to offer him a high five, but being tipsy as he was, he completely missed your hand. It took three tries and a lot of chuckles before he managed it right. You ran to me straight afterwards, your arms around my waist.

"What do ya think of that one, Courf?" you asked me, your blue eyes twinkling, "It's so good, it rocketed through the roof!"

"Well, I ought to tell you off for saying 'stupid'," I began.

"But you're not, are you?" you grinned at me, knowing how you can wheedle your way past me with just one of your little laughs.

"I ought to," I repeated, smiling, coincidentally rhyming along with you, "But I've got to admit, that was your best rhyme yet, little man."

_**Thanks for reading yet another fluffy little chapter :) I really appreciate the reviews, favourites and alerts, and I'm so glad you're all falling in love with these two as much as I am.**_


End file.
